internal matters

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Eight thirty came too quick, Michael thought, running into the building. He hadn't meant to get drunk the night before, not really, but then Chris was being a dick and Eri was very insistent that he have at least one drink with her, and then one turned into two and two into eight.

The drinking wasn't really the problem, but rather the resulting hangover he found himself dealing with as he was driving in. He'd downed two Aspirin and a piece of dry toast, but they'd done nothing to help. It was pointless to pretend he wasn't hungover, because he had bags under his eyes and wrinkled clothes that looked suspiciously like what he'd worn the day before.

"Michael," Jim said as he passed his office. He swore under his breath and backtracked. He'd been hoping he could just sneak right back in.

"Yes, sir?" The man didn't look up from his papers. He found that just a teensy bit infuriating. He might have been only an intern, sure, but he was a human being and surely he was worth at least acknowledging.

"You're late. Again."

"I know, sir, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again." Here was, ass kissing again. He wanted nothing more than to tell Jim Moriarty to fuck off and find himself a new intern who wouldn't be late by five minutes. Of course, Michael wasn't stupid, so he said none of these things.

"Mm. That's the third time I've heard that promise, Fears."

"It won't happen again, sir." The man looked up.

"It was Erianna again, wasn't it?" He blinked. This was the longest conversation he could ever remember having with his boss, and he didn't know Moriarty even knew he talked to Eri. But of course, he was the all-knowing Jim Moriarty, and he had been getting rather cozy with Erianna lately.

"Er... Yes, sir."

"Did you want to talk about it?" This was officially the longest and weirdest conversation he'd had with his boss. He wondered if he was dreaming.

"Uh... No, not really. I'd just like to do my work."

"You aren't paid, are you?" He shook his head, not trusting his voice. He'd been bitter about that particular fact for awhile. "I'll have to fix that. Have a good day, Michael."

"Uh... Yeah, yeah, you too." He walked off, wondering what the hell that was all about, and missed the soft sigh that left Jim's lips as soon as he had gone.

-

"Hi." Eri looked up at her boss, then finished packing up.

"Hey. Didn't expect you to be here." He shrugged.

"Thought I'd pick you up. Maybe we can hang out tonight or something. You've been gone too often lately."

"Whose fault is that? And sorry, but I already told Michael we could get hammered together tonight."

"Maybe I want to get drunk, too." Or maybe he just wanted to see Michael. But who was keeping track, right?

"I dunno about that."

"Why's that?" He sounded almost hurt. She guessed it was probably because of the fact he'd come to think of her as a friend, and now she wasn't available because she had plans with other friends.

"Well..."

"Well, what, Jackson?"

"It's just that... Michael is a little intimidated by you."

"Intimidated? By me?"

"Yeah. You say it like it's surprising."

"Well, it is. I haven't given him any reason to be intimidated."

"Your reputation precedes you. I think he's afraid he's going to be late one too many times, or put the wrong amount of sugars in your coffee, and you're going to have him killed."

"Well, that's ridiculous, quite frankly."

"You think so?" He nodded. "Great. You can tell him yourself tonight. Come on, we're going to a gay bar."

-

Bars were not Jim's thing, not since his college days. He was thirty now, the drinks all had stupid names, the music was too loud, and if one more guy grinded against him, he was going to kill someone.

"How do you like this place?" he complained to Eri. She laughed and sipped more of the blue alcoholic drink.

"It's not that bad in here. What's the matter, you don't know how to have fun?"

"This just isn't really somewhere I'd go."

"Well, it is a gay bar."

"And?"

"You're straight." He raised an eyebrow. "Alright, you're not straight. My apologies."

"I just don't go for these kinds of places." He tipped back his beer bottle again, eyes scanning the crowd for Michael. He was meeting them there, apparently.

He nearly choked when he did catch sight of Michael. He was wearing eyeliner and mascara and bright red lipstick, and very tight-fitting jeans. He was, in Jim's opinion, beautiful.

And annoyed to see him.

"Oh. Hi. I didn't know you were coming."

"Did you not want me to?"

"Oi, girls, break it up," Erianna laughed. "I invited Jim. He's alright." Michael fidgeted a little under Jim's gaze, which kept running over his whole body. Then he met his eyes with a smirk, and Michael shivered a little. He couldn't remember anyone ever looking at him so intensely.

Erianna quickly disappeared onto the dance floor with another girl. Michael and Jim were silent except for some small talk on Michael's part. All of Jim's answers were accompanied by a wry grin, and it was doing things to him. He needed to get far away.

Soon after, Erianna was plastered and headed home with the short-haired girl she'd been dancing with earlier. Michael had been gone for an alarmingly long time, and Jim spotted him in the corner, fist-fighting with a man much older and stronger than him. He was going to get himself killed.

Jim excused himself from the conversation he'd been having with a blonde-haired muscular man, and made his way to the back of the bar.

"Excuse me." Jim tried to pull an unsteady on his feet Michael away from the fight, but the other man didn't like that.

"Are you his boyfriend?"

"Listen, my friend didn't mean whatever it is he did- He's really drunk, we're just going to be on our way-" This man threw a punch, and Jim easily caught his wrist and twisted it, hard. "Like I said. We'll be on our way."

Jim helped Michael to his feet and out of the bar, into a cab.

"What the hell was that about, Fears?"

"I didn't..." He giggled. "I didn't know he had a boyfriend." More laughter, and then he curled himself up in the corner of the cab. "'S cold." Jim took off his coat and draped it over the younger boy.

"Go to sleep. I'll let you know when we get home." His eyes slid shut, but right before he fell asleep, he shifted so his head rested on Jim's shoulder.

"Thanks for saving me, Jim." Jim's heart twinged; Michael never called him Jim. It was always Mr. Moriarty or sir. He decided that he liked his name on his tongue.

"Any time, Fears."